Want To Hate You ... Too Bad I Love You

by Melanie Marks

  Only, well, a second ago I’d thought I had an actual date with him. A real date. Not a fake one.

  Admittedly, I know it’s for the best this way. Still, my heart is sinking. And hurting. Because though everything would have been awkward the other way—with the date being real—still, it would have been exciting. Thrilling even.

  So, though he’s being incredibly sweet (brotherly), it’s also a total let down. I mean, I don’t want a brother. I want a boyfriend. I want Noah. I didn’t really realize how much until I thought I had a date with him.

  So, his sweet text sort of sends my world crashing down. Especially my love-sick heart.

  CHAPTER 22

  Oddly, we’re all at the dinner table tonight—like a real family. I guess it’s Beth’s attempt to make me see us as one—a family. Since tomorrow I’m leaving to have my first visit with my mom.

  But a family? What a joke. Dad is too busy with work to even notice I’m here. Beth is usually at the hotel she runs. And Noah? Noah will barely look at me since this morning when he got an unexpected eyeful. Plus, you know, we kissed. And have a fake date lined up. Most of that’s not really brother-sister type stuff.

  “So, you’re spending your first break from school with your mother?” Dad says it like it’s odd that that’s how I’d choose to spend my three days off.

  “Yep,” I murmur.

  He carefully doesn’t mention that the court gave him full reign over my visits with Mom. He knows Mom is dramatic. And impetuous. But not dangerous. And he knows she would never hurt me. So, he chooses not to ever mention it—the reason I live with him now instead of her. This weapon he was able to use against her in court, a text she had written in haste. To get attention from him. He’s really kind of evil.

  He clears his throat. “And you’re taking the shuttle to the airport?” he asks—again. Like we haven’t gone over it a thousand times.

  “Yep.”

  “Be sure to get to the shuttle plenty early,” he says. “It’s difficult to find parking there these days. Absurdly, it’s become an hour long process.”

  Then he and Beth start up a conversation about that—how hard it is to find parking in the airport shuttle’s huge parking lot these days. “They really need to expand,” Beth says.

  I catch Noah peeking at me. He grins and looks away—probably finding it just as hilarious as me that they can talk so much about parking. Though also he might be thinking how hilarious it is that he saw me in my underwear, or that we have a fake date. Or that I’m so gaga over Spencer that I’m willing to have a fake date. Or that I’m so pathetic that he’s even willing to do mini-golf.

  All of these are possible.

  And they all bite.

  CHAPTER 23

  Noah is knocking on my bedroom door. I slowly become aware of this, though I can’t actually make myself wake up. He finally says, “I hope you’re dressed, because I’m coming in.”

  I’m not dressed, but I’m under my covers.

  Noah slightly cracks the door open. He peeks cautiously from the absurdly tiny crack before he fully allows himself to enter my room, obviously not willing to take another chance on awkwardly seeing more than he wants to of me.

  He runs a hand through his early morning bed-hair, “Weren’t you supposed to leave for the airport?”

  My eyes fly open and I jolt awake. “My alarm!” I gasp “—it was supposed to go off.”

  Noah grins slightly. “It is going off”

  Yeah, I’m aware of that—now. I realized it as I was saying it.

  I’m super fuzzyheaded when I wake up—which I sense he’s gathering. Still, I explain (because I’m fuzzyheaded), “I’m a really sound sleeper.”

  His grin twitches. “Really?”

  He says it like no kidding. But with total amusement. Like I’m his cute little kid sister again—not the girl he saw yesterday in her underwear.

  He’s fully aware of my instant panic. “… You need a ride?”

  “No—well, I hope not. I was going to ride the shuttle. Only, I was taking the hour earlier one. I was planning to get there early. Now I’ll be lucky to make it on time.”

  He scratches his chin, like he’s not actually sure what I just concluded—since I was rather spazzy. He lifts an eyebrow. “K…. So you’re set?”

  “Um, well, could you drive me to the shuttle? I’m going to be cutting it close—and finding a parking spot there is like, an hour long process”—he grins slightly at that, since he’d been there for my dad’s and Beth’s hour long conversation about it. I go on sort of desperate-ish, “If you could just drop me off at the front of the building, then there wouldn’t be a need to hunt for a parking spot.”

  The shuttle terminal is only about ten minutes away, so I don’t feel too hesitant or guilty asking. I mean, he offered to take me to the airport—that’s two hours away. So …

  “Sure, I’ll take you,” he says, “but you’re going to need to hurry.”

  I know this. I really do. But I need him to leave so I can throw off my covers and scramble around like a mad woman—but I can’t do that with him watching. Especially because I’m just wearing a tee-shirt. No pajama bottoms. Just the shirt. So … awkward.

  “K,” I tell him. “I’ll hurry.”

  A grin hovers on his lips, “You want me to leave?”

  Ugh! He knows I do.

  I raise my eyebrows. “Yes.”

  He gives me the tiniest glance, like he’s wondering what I’m wearing under the covers. He grins slightly though, like he gets I have no pants on—and he thinks it’s hilarious that I’m embarrassed about it. So embarrassed I might miss the shuttle.

  But hey, he was the one acting weird about it yesterday. He seems to be over that. Like, completely.

  “Okay, hurry,” he says, then shuts the door.

  CHAPTER 24

  We get to the shuttle building just as the shuttle is pulling away.

  Noah cocks his head at me with an amused grin, “So, the airport?”

  “Yes, please,” I tell him more grateful than he will ever know. I mean, it’s two hours away! And he has hockey practice. I know he’s going to miss it, yet he doesn’t even mention it.

  I know I said I didn’t want a brother, but right now I love him for being one. I could actually cry.

  CHAPTER 25

  We’re stuck in traffic. There’s been tons of it. We’re getting scarily close to my flight time. What I mean is—I might actually miss my flight. It has me squirming in my seat.

  Noah notices.

  “I know a quicker way.” He suddenly juts into the lane next to the turning lane, obviously planning to turn when the lights lets that lane turn. But our lane—the one we’re in—to go straight—now has a green light. The cars behind us wait patiently—for a bit. Then they start honking. Loudly. Noah edges closer to the turning lane, giving people room to go around him—if they are brave enough drivers.

  I’d be freaking out if I were him. I can’t stand people honking at me. “You’re making people mad.”

  He seems unperturbed. “They can go around.” Then he grins with a shrug, “—when it’s safe for them to do so.”

  Only, it’s not really safe for them to do so.

  “They’re really mad, Noah.”

  He grins, “What are they going to do? Beat me up? I’ll beat the crap out of them—” he grins slightly, “I’d enjoy beating the crap out of them.”

  Okay, so he has a different mentality than me. He’s very much less stressed than me. But then again, I can’t beat the crap out of people. (Though sometimes I’d really like to.) (Read: Bianca.)

  It’s getting harder and harder to hate him. Ugh! I don’t hate him. At all. In fact, I want to throw my arms around him and thank him—for everything. The lasagna, the fake date, the ride. Everything. But his mom ruined my mom’s life. I feel like a traitor for not hating him. I need to hate him—for mom.

  I get a call. I grimace when I see it’s from my dad. He asks, “Did you make i
t to the airport hassle-free?”

  That’s how he talked me into the shuttle, rather than him driving me to the airport—you know, like an actual dad. He said the airport shuttle is ‘hassle-free.’

  “Um, I missed the shuttle,” I tell him hesitantly, knowing I’m in for a lecture.

  He starts to give me one—loudly.

  I interrupt him, super loud myself, and close to tears, “—well, maybe if you were ever around!”

  Noah takes my phone from me. Right out of my hands while my dad is still yelling at me. Noah makes fake static noises in the mouthpiece, then hangs up.

  He hands me back my phone, then says, “You and your dad should try having an actual conversation someday—but not while you’re upset. He seems to make you more upset. You don’t need the hassle right now.”

  Right. I guess he could tell I was tense—what with my shouting. And being close to tears. My dad is very loud and hurtful with his lectures. Maybe Noah is aware of that. Or maybe he could just read my reaction.

  In any case, I’m once again grateful to him.

  Maybe having a ‘brother’ is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Only, well … I have an enormous crush on my brother. Sigh.

  CHAPTER 26

  At the airport, Noah teased me—as usual. His lips quirked, “Try not to miss me too much.”

  I sighed. Yeah, good luck with that, Peyton.

  CHAPTER 27

  Mom is late picking me up at the airport. I mean, obscenely late.

  “Sorry honey,” she gushes all rushed and hassled-like when she finally shows up. She grabs my suitcase. “I was working on a new inspiration and the time just flew.” She sighs, “I’m sorry. I just … got lost in my work.”

  She’s always getting ‘lost in her work.’ And she never wants to leave it. She may be mad that dad left us, but she’s not really sorry. She’s not. She’s doing what she loves. And she loves it more than being a mom. I’m not being bitter. Well, maybe I am. A little. But mostly, I’m just opening my eyes and facing facts. Really—(though she’d never admit it)—she’s glad that I’m gone. That she got rid of the “distraction.”

  Don’t get me wrong, I love my mom. I do. But, though she may win awards for her art, she’s not going to win any for being a mom. Well anyway, not “Mother of The Year.” Not by a long shot.

  When we get home, Mom says, “I went grocery shopping yesterday. I bought all kinds of food. I was going to make you a huge, glorious welcome home meal. I still can. What do you feel like having?”

  I can tell she’s itching to get back to her latest ‘masterpiece.’ I can see it in her studio from here. She had to drop everything and run. Get me from the airport right in the middle of her ‘inspiration.’

  “I’ll order a pizza,” I tell her. “I’ll unpack and you can finish your work while we’re waiting for it.”

  “Perfect!” She hugs me happily. “I just really need to get it to a better spot while the inspiration is still flowing through me.”

  She hugs me even tighter as I start to head upstairs. “I’m so glad you’re here”—the hug goes even tighter—“I’ve missed you so much.”

  Up in my room, I unpack—slightly—then log-on to my blog. This is where I started it. Here, in this room. It was mostly just for myself. I mean, I would get random comments on my posts sometimes. But there was only one person whose comments weren’t random. The comments made me smile….

  Just thinking back to how I used to feel getting those comments actually makes me smile now. Dear, sweet IDespiseSonny123, my one and only follower. Suddenly, his posts are dear to my heart. Maybe because I’m back here—where my blog had first started. It makes the memories run through me.

  Logging on to my blog now, I see that he posted a comment right after I had logged-out at my dad’s house. The day he had cutely accused me of singing Sonny songs in the shower. The day I didn’t wait for his reply because I’d been strangely (stupidly) creeped out—by him. My one and only follower. And—at one time—my one and only friend. Or anyway, that’s the way it had felt.

  That day—the day I went koo-koo and quickly logged-out—he had sent me a question when I didn’t reply. It says: ‘Did I say something wrong?—make you mad?’

  That was right after I logged off that night.

  Later, he sent one other message: ‘Hello?’

  I feel bad now that I didn’t reply. Or even check to see if he had.

  My life has changed so much since when he first started following me. But maybe his life hasn’t changed at all. I mean, for years now he has followed a person who hardly ever blogs. A person he doesn’t even know. He must be lonely. And probably fat and pimply and greasy … but his posts had always cheered me up and made me smile. He had been my friend when I had no friends. When I was lonely—just like he must still be, even now. My situation changed. His apparently didn’t.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I reply. ‘No. I’m not mad at you, of course. You’re a friend. Really. I’m sorry I didn’t write back sooner. How are you?’

  I wait for a reply. But I don’t get one, of course. We never correspond in real time. Well, not except that one time—and that had freaked me out. So, it’s obviously better this way—not so … ??? I don’t know. Intimate?

  Whatever.

  I log-off.

  CHAPTER 28

  My short stay with my mom? What can I say? We had a nice visit, but I could tell she was eager to get fully back to her work. She’d been able to see I was fine—that was all she really needed.

  Truthfully, I’d spent a lot of my time there thinking about Noah. About his kiss. And our upcoming fake date. And about how sweet he is. And how he makes me laugh.

  Yeah, I missed Noah.

  But I also stressed about him. Agonized about him. After all, he only saw me as a sister, and although I was so totally looking forward to our fake date (to an embarrassing degree) it was still, alas, a fake date.

  Not only that—my kiss had been ‘uneventful’ to him. And seeing me in my underwear had made him shudder. Or anyway, totally uncomfortable.

  So, yeah … obviously he sees me only as a sister.

  Absolutely nothing more.

  Sigh.

  CHAPTER 29

  When I get home from the airport, Beth and my dad try talking me into going to a restaurant. For a ‘family dinner.’ These ‘dinners’ are charades. They only happen when my dad and Beth feel I might be dwelling fondly on my mom—or dwelling on the reason I’m here—their mean weapon against her. The dinners are fake.

  I don’t do fake.

  “I’m not hungry. I’m tired,” I tell them. “I’m going to my room.”

  Beth kind of growls, “No, you’re not. It’s a ‘family’ dinner.”

  I freeze. “Beth—you ripped apart my family.”

  Then I go upstairs.

  In the hallway, Noah is leaning against the wall, obviously waiting for me. He says, “Look, I don’t want to talk bad about your dad—”

  “No, you totally can.”

  He grins, “Well, I’m not going to. But just know this is not all my mom’s fault—them getting together, I mean.”

  I can’t really hold it against Noah that his mom broke up my parent’s marriage. I mean, I tried to hold it against him … but that was dumb. And I pretty much stopped doing it the moment I moved into the house with him and saw him as an actual person, not ‘part of the enemy,’ like I’d been clutching to all the years I refused to meet him and Beth.

  I still don’t forgive Beth, by the way. Or my dad. But Noah—Noah was an innocent bystander—too good looking to be comfortable around, and not really ‘innocent’ in any other way, whatsoever—but he was totally innocent in the breakup of my family.

  And, well, I love him.

  Seeing him, my heart gets all mushy.

  He grins slightly, seeming to know that. “You missed me, huh?”

  Before I can say anything, a girl comes out of his room. Of course.

  I grumble bitt
erly as I stomp to my room, “I missed you about the same as you missed me.”

  “Then that’s a lot,” Noah says as I slam my bedroom door.

  CHAPTER 30

  The night of our ‘date,’ I’m nervous. I mean, yeah, okay, the date is fake, and Noah had obviously had a real one just last night—though he had texted me to tell me the girl in the hallway was only there to help him ‘study’ … but I was pretty sure ‘study’ was code for something else. I mean, come on, this was Noah.

  Anyway, whatever. I’m nervous about our date—fake or not. I’ve been fantasizing it all week. And missing Noah all week. So, I’m all weak in the knees and even weak in the heart. I mean, it’s been pounding like it’s going to explode ever since Noah and I met up at the mini-golf place.

  I actually have butterflies in my stomach.

  Noah grins, like he knows what’s going on with me. Like he knows I’m about to burst into confetti because he’s being all attentive and date-like.

  “I missed you while you were gone,” he says. “The bathroom doesn’t smell nearly as nice without you around.” He raises his eyebrows. “Actually, it doesn’t smell nice at all.”

  Well, okay, that’s not the most romantic line in the world. But still, he says it all sweet and it gets my insides all gushy. I’m glad to hear he missed something about me—since I missed everything about him.

  He pulls me a little closer, since Spencer is nearby. “You smell nice right now,” he whispers in my ear, his warm breath sending tingles skittering through my body.

  Man, I could kiss Spencer!! (Thank you, thank you Spencer for coming to miniature golf!!)

  Instead of letting me go, Noah holds me even closer. Feeling his heartbeat, he brings my palm up to his warm cheek and brushes it gently, gently soft against his hot Noah-skin. The unexpected gesture sends a million-trillion butterflies exploding through my insides because well—whoa! I’m getting to touch Noah’s face. He’s having me touch it.